mpted before the rains work
havoc among the communications on land, and the storms slash at the
communications by sea. We _must_ be going to win."

"O Lord, yes," echoed I.

But September with its dry weather began to wane, the rains started
a plaguy pelting, and the winds commenced to excite the placid
AEgean, while we still awaited big movements and final things.

Sec.4

Then the evil Peninsula sent straight to Monty's feet something that
seemed like a direct message of scornful warning to our little
_Rangoon_ group. It was such a message as defiant kings have sent to
banter those who contemplated an invasion of their realms. This is
how it came.

Day after day (you must know) in the early morning, the dead, sewn
up in their blankets, were landed from the ships that had picked
them up in a dying condition at Suvla and Helles. They were laid in
rows on the little landing-jetty, the "Egyptian Pier." After awhile
the men would put them by in a mortuary tent, where they rested till
the evening, when a G.S. waggon conveyed them to the cemetery.

Generally Monty, whose duty it was to bury them, would sit on the
driver's seat and ride to the cemetery, after persuading Doe and me
to ride with him.

On a certain September evening Monty glanced at the Camp
Commandant's "chit," and read it aloud to us: "'Seven bodies for
burial at 1700.' Are you coming?"

Doe turned towards me. "Coming, Rupert?"

"No. I'm too tired."

"Oh, rot, you scrimshanker. You've been hogging it all the
afternoon."

"Yes, come on," said Monty. "We'll drive on the waggon."

The G.S. waggon with its seven blanketed forms was outside waiting
for Monty. It was drawn by two teams of mules with mounted drivers.
The driver's seat was therefore vacant, and on to it Monty, Doe and
I climbed. The waggon started, as Monty whispered: "It's rather like
the Dead Cart in the days of the Great Plague, isn't it?" We never
spoke loud with that load behind us.

The waggon jolted along the straight white road to the cemetery,
which was a little dusty acre on a plain between the hills. We
halted at the gate, and Monty, getting down from his seat, robed by
the front wheels. And, when the seven bodies had been removed in
their stretchers from the waggon and laid in a line upon the road,
the corporal of the Burial Party saluted Monty, and said:

"One's an officer, sir. Will you take him first?"

"I'll go in front," answered Monty. "Then the seven bodies, on